I’m sweating through my t-shirt, the Amsterdam air sticky even at night. The red light district buzzes like a neon hive , narrow streets, canals reflecting pink and purple glows, guys stumbling out of bars, laughing too loud. I’m alone, two days into a solo vacation, my backpack heavy with souvenirs I don’t need. My name’s Ethan, 29, just another dude trying to “find himself” after a dead-end job and a breakup that wasn’t even dramatic. I’m not here for the weed or the bikes. I’m curious about the windows.
The canals smell like damp stone and weed. I weave through crowds, past coffee shops and sex shops, my sneakers sticking to the cobblestones. The windows start appearing , women in lingerie, leaning against glass, some smiling, some bored. I keep my head down, hands in my pockets, feeling like a creep but too curious to stop. I’m not some perv, I tell myself. Just looking. It’s legal here, no shame. My heart’s pounding anyway.
I turn a corner, and there she is. Tall, like model-tall, with legs that go on forever in fishnet stockings. Her hair’s dark, spilling over her shoulders, and her lips are full, painted red. She’s in a black lace bodysuit, leaning against the window frame, one hand on her hip. She catches my eye and doesn’t look away. My stomach flips. She’s gorgeous, like she stepped out of a magazine, but there’s something sharp in her gaze, like she’s sizing me up. I stop dead, forgetting the crowd pushing past me.
“Fuck, she’s hot,” I mutter under my breath. I glance at the window frame , there’s a light above it, but I don’t think much of it. Blue, maybe? Doesn’t matter. My brain’s stuck on her cheekbones, her confidence. I’m not the guy who does this. I’ve never paid for sex. But my feet are moving before I can overthink it. I’m at her door, my hand on the handle, and she’s still watching me, a small smirk tugging at her lips.
Inside, it’s small, dim, smells like perfume and something sharper, maybe cleaning products. There’s a bed with red sheets, a chair, a sink in the corner. She closes the door behind me, and I’m hit with how tall she is , taller than me, and I’m 6 foot. Her heels click on the floor. “Hey, handsome,” she says, her voice low, a little husky. “First time?”
I nod, my throat dry. “Yeah. Uh, I’m Ethan.”
“Nice to meet you, Ethan. I’m Sasha.” She steps closer, and I catch a whiff of her perfume , sweet, but not overpowering. “What’re we doing tonight?”
My brain scrambles. I haven’t thought this far. “Uh, just… whatever’s normal, I guess?”
She laughs, sharp and quick. “Normal’s boring. Let’s make it fun.” She’s close now, her fingers brushing my arm. My skin prickles. I’m nervous, but my body’s reacting, heat pooling in my gut. I’m trying to play it cool, but my eyes keep flicking to her body, the way the lace hugs her curves. She’s flawless. Too flawless, maybe? A thought nags at me, but I push it down.
“How much?” I ask, my voice cracking like I’m 16.
She names a price , steep, but I’ve got cash from skipping fancy dinners. I nod, fumbling for my wallet. “Condoms, right?” I say, trying to sound responsible.
“Of course,” she says, pointing to a bowl on the table, full of foil packets. “Safety first.” Her tone’s teasing, but there’s a professionalism to it, like she’s done this a thousand times. She probably has. I hand her the cash, and she tucks it into a small safe by the bed. “Relax, Ethan,” she says, turning back to me. “I’ll take care of you.”
I’m trying to relax, but my heart’s hammering. She’s so confident, so in control. It’s hot, but it’s throwing me off. I’m used to knowing what’s next, not this. She steps closer again, her hand on my chest, pushing me gently toward the bed. “Sit,” she says. I do, my knees weak. She stands in front of me, one hand on her hip, the other playing with a strand of her hair. “What do you like?” she asks.
I blank. “Uh, I don’t know. You’re… you’re really hot, so… anything?”
She smirks again, like she’s heard that before. “Flatterer. Let’s start slow.” She kneels in front of me, her hands on my thighs, and my brain short-circuits. I’m hard already, embarrassingly fast. Her fingers work my belt, and I’m trying to focus, but something’s nagging at me again. The blue light. What does it mean? I’ve heard something about colors here, but I can’t remember. Red’s normal, right? Blue’s… what?
“Sasha,” I say, my voice shaky. “The light outside. It was blue, yeah?”
She pauses, her hands still on my jeans. Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a flicker of amusement. “Yeah, it’s blue.” She tilts her head. “You know what that means?”
My stomach drops. I don’t, but I’m starting to guess. “Uh… no?”
She leans back, sitting on her heels, and gives me a look that’s half challenge, half pity. “Blue means I’m trans, sweetheart. Got a dick. Still want to play?”
My brain freezes. Trans. Shit. I didn’t know. I mean, I knew it was a thing here, but I didn’t know. I stare at her, my mouth open, no words coming out. She’s still gorgeous, still confident, but now I’m noticing things , the slight broadness of her shoulders, the way her hips aren’t quite as curved as I thought. My heart’s racing, not just from nerves now. Panic. I’ve never done this. Never even thought about it.
“Ethan?” she says, her voice softer now. “You okay? You can leave if you want. No hard feelings.”
I should leave. That’s the smart move. But I’m still hard, and she’s still kneeling there, looking at me like she’s not judging, just waiting. My brain’s screaming one thing, my body another. “I… I don’t know,” I stammer. “I’ve never…”
“First time for everything,” she says, her smirk back. “I’m good, Ethan. Really good. You might like it.”
I swallow hard. My hands are shaking. I’m freaking out, but I’m also… curious? Fuck, am I really doing this? “Okay,” I say, barely a whisper. “Let’s… let’s keep going.”
Her eyes light up, like she’s won a bet with herself. “Good boy,” she says, and her hands are back on my jeans, tugging them down. My heart’s in my throat, but I don’t stop her. I’m in too deep now.
My jeans are around my ankles, and Sasha’s hands are on my thighs, her nails digging in just enough to keep me grounded. I’m still freaking out, my brain a mess of what the hell am I doing and she’s so fucking hot. She’s trans. Okay. I’m processing it, or trying to. Her face is inches from my boxers, and I’m hard as hell, no denying that. She looks up at me, eyes sharp, like she’s reading every thought in my head.
“Relax,” she says, her voice low, almost a purr. “You’re gonna like this.”
I nod, but my mouth’s dry, words stuck. She hooks her fingers into my boxers and pulls them down, slow, deliberate. My dick springs free, and I’m embarrassed at how eager I look. She doesn’t laugh, though , just gives me this approving little hum. “Nice,” she says, and before I can respond, her mouth’s on me.
Holy shit. Her lips are warm, soft, and she’s not messing around. She takes me deep, her tongue doing things I didn’t know tongues could do. I grip the edge of the bed, knuckles white, trying not to lose it in ten seconds. “Fuck, Sasha,” I gasp, and she pulls back just enough to smirk.
“Told you I’m good,” she says, then goes back to work. My head’s spinning. I’m trying to focus on the sensation, not the fact that I’m in a room with a trans woman, doing something I never imagined. Her hand’s on my balls, gentle but firm, and it’s too much. I’m close already.
“Wait,” I say, my voice shaky. “Slow down. I don’t wanna… you know.”
She pulls off, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.” She stands, towering over me in those heels, and starts peeling off her bodysuit. It slides down her body, revealing smooth skin, small but perfect tits, and then , fuck. There it is. Her dick. Not huge, but definitely there, half-hard, and I can’t stop staring. My brain’s screaming abort mission, but my body’s not listening.
“You okay?” she asks, one eyebrow raised. She’s so damn calm, like this is just another Tuesday.
“Yeah,” I lie, my voice cracking. “Just… new territory.”
She laughs, sharp and real. “You’ll get used to it.” She grabs a condom from the bowl, tears it open with her teeth, and rolls it onto herself with this practiced ease. Then she hands me another one. “Your turn.”
I fumble with the wrapper, my hands shaky. She watches, amused, as I finally get it on. “Good boy,” she says again, and fuck, why does that make me harder? She steps closer, her dick brushing my thigh, and I flinch. She notices but doesn’t call me out. Instead, she pushes me back onto the bed, climbing on top, her weight pinning me down.
“Let’s have some fun,” she says, and before I can respond, she’s kissing my neck, her teeth grazing my skin. I’m tense, but my body’s reacting, hips shifting under her. She reaches down, stroking me, and I groan. Then her hand moves lower, past my balls, and I freeze.
“Uh, what’re you , ”
“Shh,” she says, her finger circling my ass. “Trust me.”
I don’t trust her. Not really. But I’m too far gone to stop. She grabs lube from the table, slicking her fingers, and starts working me open. It’s weird, invasive, but not bad. My brain’s yelling this is too much, but my dick’s still hard, so I guess I’m into it. She’s slow, careful, watching my face for any sign to stop. I don’t give her one.
“Feels okay?” she asks, her voice softer now.
“Yeah,” I manage, my face burning. “Weird, but… okay.”
She grins, like she’s proud of me, and adds another finger. I hiss, but it’s not pain , just pressure, stretching. She’s good at this, too good, and I’m starting to relax, my body loosening under her. “You’re doing great,” she says, and I hate how much I like her praise.
Then she shifts, lining herself up. “Ready?” she asks, holding the base of her condom-covered dick.
I nod, but my heart’s pounding. This is it. No turning back. She pushes in, slow, and it’s intense , burning at first, then just… full. I grip the sheets, trying to breathe. “Fuck,” I mutter, and she pauses.
“You good?” she asks, her hand on my hip.
“Yeah, just… go slow.”
She does, inching in until she’s fully inside. It’s overwhelming, but not bad. She starts moving, small thrusts, and my body adjusts, the burn fading into something else. Something good. I’m moaning before I realize it, and she’s smirking again.
“Told you,” she says, picking up the pace. She’s fucking me now, steady and deep, and I’m losing it, my dick leaking against my stomach. She grabs my hips, angling herself, and hits something inside me that makes me see stars. “There it is,” she says, like she’s found buried treasure.
I’m a mess, panting, cursing, my brain blank except for how good this feels. But then she slows, pulling out, and I’m confused. “Your turn,” she says, lying back on the bed, legs spread. She’s still hard, the condom shiny with lube. “Fuck me.”
I blink, my brain catching up. “Me? Like…?”
“Yeah,” she says, impatient. “Condom’s on. Lube’s there. Come on.”
I’m nervous again, but I grab the lube, slicking myself up. She’s on her back, one hand behind her head, watching me like I’m her entertainment. I position myself, clumsy, and she guides me, her hand on my dick. “Right there,” she says, and I push in.
She’s tight, hot, and I groan, my hands braced on either side of her. “Fuck, Sasha,” I say, and she laughs, breathy.
“Move, Ethan,” she says, and I do, thrusting slow at first, then faster as she urges me on. She’s loud, moaning, cursing in a way that’s so raw it’s hot. Her dick’s bouncing between us, and I’m weirdly fascinated, watching it as I fuck her. She notices and grins. “Wanna try something else?”
Before I can ask, she’s pushing me off, flipping onto her knees. “Rim me,” she says, ass in the air.
I freeze. “Uh… what?”
“You heard me,” she says, looking back. “Tongue. Ass. Now.”
I’ve never done this. Not to anyone. But she’s so confident, so demanding, I can’t say no. I lean in, hesitant, and lick. It’s strange, musky, but not bad. She moans, loud, and that’s all the encouragement I need. I go for it, my hands spreading her cheeks, and she’s writhing, pushing back against me.
“Fuck, yes,” she says, her voice muffled against the sheets. “You’re a natural.”
I’m blushing, but I keep going, my dick throbbing. She’s so responsive, every sound egging me on. Then she pulls away, turning to face me. “My turn,” she says, and before I know it, she’s got me on my back, her mouth on my ass.
I yelp, shocked, but her tongue’s relentless, and I’m melting, my legs shaking. “Sasha, fuck,” I gasp, and she just hums, the vibration driving me insane. She’s eating me out like it’s her job, and I’m so close I’m scared I’ll come without touching myself.
She pulls back, wiping her mouth, and grins. “Ready for more?”
I’m sprawled on the bed, legs trembling, Sasha’s grin looming over me like she’s won some game I didn’t know we were playing. My brain’s a fog of lust and panic, still reeling from her tongue in places I never thought tongues belonged. I’m so hard it hurts, my condom slick with lube and pre-cum. Sasha’s dick is still there, bobbing between us, and I’m past freaking out about it. It’s just… part of her. And she’s hot as hell.
“More?” I pant, half-laughing, half-terrified. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Nah,” she says, crawling over me, her knees bracketing my hips. “You’re tougher than you look.” Her voice is teasing, but her eyes are intense, like she’s daring me to keep up. She grabs another condom from the bowl , fresh one, no risks , and rolls it onto me with this slow, deliberate twist of her wrist. I groan, my hips bucking involuntarily.
“Easy, tiger,” she says, smirking. She’s in control, and I’m not fighting it anymore. She slicks me up with more lube, her fingers lingering, teasing, and I’m practically begging without saying a word. Then she straddles me, lining herself up, and sinks down.
“Fuck,” I hiss, gripping her thighs. She’s tight, so tight, and the heat of her is unreal, even through the condom. She starts moving, slow at first, rolling her hips like she’s dancing. Her dick bounces with each motion, and I can’t stop watching, fascinated. It’s weirdly hot, and I’m not sure what that says about me, but I don’t care right now.
“You like this,” she says, not a question. Her hands are on my chest, nails digging in, and she’s riding me harder now, her breath coming in sharp gasps. “Told you you’d have fun.”
“Yeah,” I manage, my voice wrecked. “You weren’t lying.” I thrust up to meet her, finding a rhythm, and she moans, loud and unashamed. It’s raw, primal, and I’m losing myself in it, my hands roaming her hips, her ass, anywhere I can touch.
Then she leans down, kissing me , first time she’s done that. Her lips are soft, her tongue aggressive, and I’m kissing her back, desperate, like I need it to breathe. My brain’s screaming you’re kissing a trans woman, dude, but my body’s all in, no hesitation. She tastes like mint and sweat, and I’m drowning in it.
“Switch,” she says, pulling off me so fast I’m dizzy. She’s on her knees now, ass up, looking back at me. “Fuck me again. Hard.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I’m behind her, sliding back in, and she’s pushing back, meeting every thrust. It’s frantic, sloppy, and perfect. Her moans are louder now, mixed with curses, and I’m grunting, my hands gripping her hips so tight I’m probably leaving marks. Her dick’s swinging below her, and on impulse, I reach around, grabbing it.
She gasps, surprised, then laughs. “Oh, you’re bold now,” she says, her voice shaky. I stroke her, clumsy but eager, and she’s trembling, her moans turning into whimpers. It’s surreal, feeling her hardness in my hand while I’m inside her, but it’s turning me on more than I thought possible.
“Ethan,” she pants, “you’re gonna make me come.”
“Good,” I say, my voice rough. I’m close too, my thrusts erratic, but I want her to get there first. I stroke her faster, my other hand digging into her hip, and she’s shaking, her whole body tensing. Then she cries out, loud, and I feel her pulse in my hand, her dick twitching as she comes, spilling into the condom.
It’s enough to push me over. I thrust deep, one last time, and I’m gone, my vision whiting out as I come harder than I ever have. My legs give out, and I collapse onto her, both of us panting, sweaty, a mess of limbs on the red sheets.
“Fuck,” I say, rolling off her, staring at the ceiling. My heart’s pounding, my body buzzing. Sasha’s next to me, catching her breath, her hair sticking to her forehead. She looks… satisfied. Proud, even.
“Told you I’m good,” she says, smirking, but there’s a warmth in her voice now, less performative.
“Yeah,” I say, laughing despite myself. “No shit.”
We lie there for a minute, the room quiet except for our breathing and the faint hum of the neon outside. I’m processing, my brain finally catching up. I just had sex with a trans woman. Anal, oral, rimming, the whole deal. And it was… incredible. I’m not freaked out anymore. I’m just… impressed.
Sasha sits up, peeling off her condom and tossing it into a bin by the bed. “You good?” she asks, glancing at me. “No regrets?”
“Nah,” I say, surprising myself. “That was… wild. You’re wild.”
She laughs, standing to grab a towel from the sink. “You’re not bad yourself, Ethan. For a first-timer.”
I pull off my own condom, tying it off and tossing it. My legs are shaky as I sit up, pulling my boxers back on. “So, uh… blue light, huh?” I say, trying to sound casual. “Didn’t know what I was walking into.”
She grins, wiping her face with the towel. “Most don’t. But you handled it like a champ.”
I’m blushing, but I’m also kind of proud. I feel different, like I’ve crossed some line I didn’t know existed. Not just about sex, but about… I don’t know, being open, maybe? I’m not gonna go shouting it from the rooftops, but I get it now. Trans women, like Sasha? They’re hot. No question.
“Gotta get back to work,” she says, slipping her bodysuit back on. “You sticking around Amsterdam?”
“Couple more days,” I say, buckling my belt. “Maybe I’ll… walk by again.”
She raises an eyebrow, amused. “Blue light’s always on, handsome.”
I laugh, grabbing my jacket. “Yeah, maybe I’ll notice it next time.”
I step outside, the cool night air hitting my face. The canal’s still there, reflecting neon, and the crowd’s still buzzing. I’m different, though. Not changed in some big, dramatic way , just… aware. I light a cigarette, take a drag, and start walking. The blue light’s behind me, but I’m not forgetting it anytime soon.